


Puzzles and Patronus'

by cometthespacerock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus drops a big one, Fifth year hogwarts second term, Fluff and Angst, Hooty the Owl, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Scorpius is a good caregiver, albus is recovering, patronus make an appearance, scorpius is patient, therapy mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometthespacerock/pseuds/cometthespacerock
Summary: The first time Scorpius Malfoy saw Albus Potter shirtless, it was not romantic.or,Albus Potter has been ordered to take it slow; It gets boring rather quickly. Scorpius learns what makes Albus tick.





	Puzzles and Patronus'

**Author's Note:**

> I cover the before in one of my shipmas fics which will be posted next week, or so. Speaking of, I should have been doing that but this took over my head.   
> Suicide References for those who need them, addiction recovering warning for those who need that.

The first time Scorpius Malfoy saw Albus Potter shirtless, it was not romantic.

Albus had arrived back into the dormitory the following term with his parents in tow. He did not go to the welcome back dinner, and he did not partake in the train ride. His older brother James, was in the dorms helping with his trunk while Al’s mother carefully remade his bed. His father, Harry, stood around the dorms, trying to make conversation how this dorm mirrored his own when he was in Hogwarts. His little sister Lily, stood off to the side quiet, before deciding to unpack some of her brother’s things.

As Head Boy, James was tasked with making sure that Al was following proper orders, and as Al’s older brother, the task was more personal, making sure that his little brother was doing okay. As Head Boy, James had instructed Slytherin Prefect, Scorpius, to keep watch of his little brother. As his best friend, Scorpius felt it was more his duty to keep safe eyes on Albie.

The first morning of the first days of second term fifth year, Albus woke up slightly later than the rest of his dorm. Scorpius had already made his way back from breakfast with a muffin in hand, when he noticed that Albus was currently shirtless and sitting on his bed.

There was nothing romantic about it, as Scorpius watched from a far, as his best friend struggled with his school uniform.  Scorpius had known he was significantly weaker, but seeing him struggle with a daily task like buttoning his shirt was hard to watch.

“Do you need help, Albus?” The words are soft spoken, and he goes to meet the eyes of his best friend.

Albus’ face is bright red, ashamed of admitting defeat. But he had been sitting there longer shirtless. It was as if his brain struggled to remember the simple motions, and his muscles ached with the movements for the simple task.

He doesn’t speak to Scorpius, and Scorpius takes that answer as a yes. He goes over to his best friend and buttons up the shirt for him, then helps him with the tie, then the knit jumper. Scorpius keeps that friendly smile on his face and grabs the hairbrush Ginny Weasley had placed on the bedside table.

Albus’ hair is too short to need a lot of brushing, but Scorpius does it regardless. He quietly pulls the brush through the short strands, letting the clumps of hair that were long enough, stick up in soft spikes. He puts the brush down and smiles at his best friend. “There. You look all Albus-y again.”

Albus just nods in thanks, leveraging himself on Scorpius’ arms as they go to class together.

They’re sitting on Albus’ bed in the dormitory one cold, Hogsmeade, Saurday afternoon. Albus has been instructed via his healer, and his muggle therapist, to take it easy. He’s not allowed any extracurricular activities this term, and he’s required the bare minimum until his health clears up. He can only do homework and class, and low stress activities. He has been ordered to take it slow, which sounded fun at first, but quickly grew boring. Even trips to Hogsmeade at this time were deemed too inappropriate.

Scorpius hunched over the large spacious jigsaw puzzle, putting in a piece of the landscape. “Ah, right there!” He beams at Albus. “Did you find that sky piece yet, Al?”

Albus nods, and puts it into place. He then adds the final sky piece and frowns, jerking his leg and kicking at the puzzle. He lets out a soft pout and typical Albus grumpy look. However, with his short haircut he looks more like an angry child than a teenage boy.

“Oh well, we were done!” Scorpius waves his wand and the pieces all fly back into the box. “Want to do another, or do you want to play a game, or?” Scorpius rambles off ideas.

“I want to talk,” Albus says softly.

Scorpius straightens up. Talking about what happened hadn’t been something they had done. Scorpius was told by many that Albus would talk when he was ready. Scorpius was anxious to know about the whys and hows behind it all, but he couldn’t force it out of Albus before he was ready.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Albus says. “You can go to Hogsmeade and to clubs and stuff if you want. I can just nap or something.”

“I want to stay with you. Hogsmeade isn’t fun without you. Besides, I don’t want you to be alone.”

Albus opens his mouth to protest, but he changes what he says. “I know. I just don’t want to be the reason you miss out.”

“You’re not,” Scorpius reassures him.

“Because Merlin’s beard, I’m already the reason Mum cries, or why Lil’s so scared, or Jamie’s influx of random compliments and love, or Teddy’s generosity, or Dad’s—Dad’s hurt face. If I would’ve known all that then maybe I’d of rather let it kill me,” Albus replies, trying to play the last words off as a joke. Scorpius’ eyes hollow, and Albus presses his thin lips together. “That was a joke,” he reaffirms.

“No it wasn’t,” Scorpius says seriously.

Albus breathes, then Scorpius breathes a little harder. He waves his wand to pull the curtains closed around their bed. It’s still just the two of them in the dorm, but Scorpius wants more privacy. He reaches to the side of Albus’ bed, where the boy’s beloved owl stays. Scorpius grabs it and hugs it tight.

“I was joking,” Albus whispers. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Scorpius hugs the toy owl with all his might. He loves everything about the little owl, from the way the toes on the left foot are home to tiny teeth marks, to the way the toy has specks of dirt on it. He loves the little plastic eyes that seem far to knowing, the same eyes that house all of Albus’ secrets Scorpius wasn’t around to witness. He loves the beak, how it’s stained from all the food little Albus had forced into its face, and the little wings that are home to dirty fingerprints.

“But you wish you weren’t,” Scorpius finishes quietly.

“Sometimes,” Albus finishes quietly. There’s truth behind those words and Scorpius breathes out. He exhales and looks at Albus in a new, serious way. “Mum and Dad won’t stop hovering, James is less James than normal, and Mum always hugs me so much. Dad has trouble looking at me. I didn’t get in trouble. I should’ve been grounded for life, but Mum made me chocolate cake, and Gran gave me a knit blanket. They’ve been smothering me.”

“You could’ve died, Al.”

“I wasn’t in any danger.”

Scorpius’ ice blue eyes turn to straight ice. “You almost died. I should know; I carried you.”

Albus doesn’t speak. There’s truth behind those words. He was told how he was more out of it than he remembers. He was told constantly about his low levels of blood, low levels of sugar. His healer told him about the weight loss, and the hair loss was noticeable. The combinations Albus did were dangerous, and if he continued the acidity from his mixture could’ve ripped a hole in his stomach.

“My muggle therapist says that it was an addiction.” He watches as Scorpius strokes and hugs his toy owl. Hooty had always been so sacred to him. As a child no one was allowed to touch Hooty aside from himself or his parents. Albus had to have the utmost trust in a person before they could hold his toy.

Scorpius has always had that trust. From day one, Scorpius treated the owl like how Albus did. Hooty was always respected, and treated like an individual and not some throwaway play thing. He never rough played with the toy, never laughed. He was always kind.

“So you’ve been seeing someone?” Scorpius asks.

“Yeah, Mum made me start seeing him again.”

Scorpius pauses at the word again. He’s never known Albus to ever see one of those. He’s never known about it. He’s known Albus six years next September, and he’s never ever heard mention of this. Ever.

“Again?” Scorpius questions.

Albus’ head shifts down, ashamed and low. He mentally curses to himself. “Forget I said anything,” he denies quickly.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Scorpius says quietly. “If you don’t feel comfortable doing so.” He won’t admit he’s hurt, that Albus doesn’t trust him like that. But if Albus thinks he can’t handle it, it must be something big.

“No, I want to tell you,” Albus replies back quickly. “I just don’t want…I don’t want people to know,” he says, getting softer.

“You think I’d tell someone?” Scorpius can’t help but be defensive.

“No! I just don’t want anyone to overhear,” he confesses. “We’ve spent _years_ keeping this away from the press. We can’t let it get out. It’d fuck up a lot of shit.”

“What is it?”

“Promise not to tell?”

Scorpius nods his head, taking this seriously. “Of course, Al.”

Albus takes a deep breath. “As a little kid, I went to muggle mind healers. Therapy, it’s called in the muggle world. I have…” Albus pauses then rearranges his words. “When I was in nursery school, my teacher told Mum and Dad I had really bad manners, and behaviors, and social problems. I…I have problems understanding people. I’m not _crazy_ , or psyco, or _anything_ , I think,” he adds in a quiet mumble. “I just am shit with people. I got better!” Albus adds quickly. “Not _cured_ , but better. Like I don’t have tantrums when I’m socially exhausted anymore, and I can function pretty good compared to how I was.” Albus waits for Scorpius to process everything.

“But how is it a bad thing?” Scorpius asks. “You have trouble with social skills and people. Why is that anything to be ashamed of?”

“Once,” Albus confesses. “When I was little, like, we just found out. Dad was talking to Aunt ‘Mione in his work office once. People overheard him in the office. I wasn’t supposed to hear that. I really wasn’t. But I heard him and Mum talking one night about it when I had went to get some juice before bed. Dad was _really_ freaked out. Turns out people at work kept joking with him about it.  Someone had overheard and told Dad Voldymort,” Albus pauses after his pronunciation. He couldn’t say that word right if you gave him fifty galleons. “Had people issues too.” Albus looks at his bedding.

Scorpius fills in the blanks himself. “Oh, Albie,” he says, and reaches over to hug his best friend. “People assumed you were the next _him_.”

“You know what they say,” Albus mumbles. “ _He_ didn’t understand love either.”

Scorpius’ heart breaks at the words, and he doesn’t care if Albus sees the tear slip from his eyes. He scoots closer to Albus and wraps him in a hug.

Albus Potter was the sweetest, _kindest_ boy he’d ever known. Albus had a heart of gold, and was a _good kid_. Sure Albus had some rambunctious tendencies, and sometimes questionable behavior, but now it all made sense. He often didn’t follow social norms, because he didn’t _know_ social norms.  Scorpius had learned that Albus had to be _taught_ what a lot of people knew naturally.

Scorpius couldn’t understand where anyone got the conception that Albus was the next dark lord. Albus’ heart was almost always in the right place. He was always thriving, and even if he had selfish moments, he almost always did the right thing. He was a _wonderful_ person, and Scorpius perhaps, loved him _more_ now.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Scorpius decides to ask.

“I dunno. Somehow, _Hi I’m Albus Potter and I’m socially fucked_ couldn’t seem to find a proper way into a conversation.”

“Does anyone else know? Aside from your family and stuff, obviously.”

“Mum told the mums of the muggle kids I played with. And relatives, obviously. It’s one of the sacred things on some extreme forbidden list that no one is allowed to talk about outside family. I mean, it’s like _really up there_.  I mean, it’s so up there that once when I was younger James tried to use it against me in some stupid fight and he got grounded for like, a month. And by grounded, it was probably the worst grounding he had ever had. James can pick on me other ways, but if he pulls that out and Mum and Dad find out, he’s in _really_ big trouble.”

“Are you okay?” Scorpius asks, and Albus nods his head.

“Yeah, I am. Really.”

Scorpius nods, letting all the information sink in. He thinks back to the earlier words of Al mentioning he wanted to talk. “What did it do to you?” He asks. “The potion, not your social disorder. But by the way, I’m glad you told me. Let me know if you need help with it. Honest.”

Albus licks at his lips. They felt cold and chapped. “Thanks.” He searches for words. “And I will,” he adds quietly. “Thank you for not treating me like a freak. For both of them.”

“You’re my best friend; why would I call you a freak?”

“Telling someone that you physically have to get help for social skills isn’t exactly the most normal thing, Scorp. Neither is being in a hospital because you almost ripped a hole in your stomach with an acidic potion you made from some illegal section of a text book.”

“But then, neither is obsessing over an author that wrote a book about a history of our school, or having multiple copies of the same text book, because each one has a different cover, or edition by the same author. We’re both not normal, Albie,” he tells him, leaning back on his hands on the bed. “Why did you take the potion?” Scorpius didn’t mean to ask, he didn’t know if it were still a secret. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know about the hows and whys behind Albus Potter.

“I dunno,” Albus replies quietly. “I was told at some stupid family dinner that fifth year was OWL year. My Uncle Percy casually mentioned that OWLs were the most important test of Hogwarts, and if you failed your OWLs you’d never get a job.”

“But your Uncle Percy says the same thing about literally _everything_ you enjoy. If you listen to hard heavy music like that people won’t hire you. If you’re not some clean cut proper kid, schools will never take you seriously. Al, he always talks like that. Why was this any different?”

“I _know_. I don’t know,” Albus replies, being awful stubborn about his answer. Albus looks past Scorpius at the curtains surrounding them. They’re enclosed, and it’s just the two of them. Life feels like it should be; it’s Albus and Scorpius. “I just…” Albus blinks hard, and tears slip out.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Scorpius replies seriously. “If it makes you upset, or you’re not ready, you don’t have to answer me.”

“I was scared,” Albus confesses.  Scorpius listens. “I was scared, and James has his quidditch and Lily has her being an only girl thing, and Mum’s Mum and Dad’s Dad and I’m just…I _wanted_ to do good. I wanted to have a future and I’ve always been the troubled kid. _The freak.”_

“You’re not,” Scorpius reasons.

“But I _am_ ,” he retorts back. “I’ve always been that kid. I’ve always been seen as odd, or off.  I’ll always be that kid that doesn’t understand, or that kid that’s off on his own because he’s too fucked socially.”

“So your social reasons were the reason behind your potion?”

Albus shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t really know. I just had it in my head that I’d fail the OWLs just like I fail at…at _that stuff_ and I don’t know. I just didn’t want to do that. It’s not just school that’s rough for me Scorp,” Albus says quieter. “It’s being lonely. This…this _thing_ inside me that causes me to fuck up _so much_ , it makes me _so fucking confused_ ,” he whispers to his best friend. “I just wanted to not fuck up for once,” he whispers. “And it seemed easy. It was _just_ a potion. But I fucked up, naturally.”

Scorpius’ heart aches for the situation. He can’t even imagine what it must be like to be in Albus’ head. To not understand and have to question everything because you’re constantly in doubt. “But if all you needed was just to study, then why go to the extremes? You’re not a horrible student, Al. I mean, sure, there are some classes you’re not best at, but even Hermione Granger had a bad class.”

“I _know_ , but it didn’t seem like it’d be _enough_. I just got overwhelmed in myself, I guess.”

Scorpius nods. He hadn’t noticed it too much, but now that Al was pointing it out, he could see it more clearly. Albus sometimes got too into something. He would sometimes do this thing where he would get too involved, and wouldn’t know when to stop. This seemed like it was probably the case.

“I’m sorry.” Albus blinks.

“You don’t need to be,” Scorpius replies. “You don’t _ever_ need to apologize for that thing. You don’t ever have to feel _sorry_ for having a social disorder, or a learning disorder, or mental disorder, or _whatever_. You don’t have to apologize for not understanding, or being scared of yourself, or that you need patience, or quiet time. If you _ever_ need me for anything, I’m here for you. I’m your best friend,” Scorpius finishes. “And I care about you.”

“Thanks, Scor.”

“And if all you _need_ is some study time, then Professor Malfoy is in the house!” He lets out a bit of a giggle. “From now on _I’ll_ be your tutor for extra study! We can do it every night, work on our OWLs together. We can do it when no one is here, just us, or in the library, and after dinner, _oh_ , I’ll make a schedule!” Scorpius lets out a squeak at the mention of making a timetable for studying. “It’ll be _fun_.”

While studying with Scorpius isn’t exactly the definition of fun, all in all it’s not too bad. He’s patient, and he’s kind. He doesn’t mind helping Al out from time to time, and he even double checks all the papers that have misspellings due to Albus not wearing his glasses.

They’re sitting on the bed one evening when everyone is still at dinner. Albus hasn’t gained the strength yet to eat at the dining table just yet, and so far, no one’s really noticed. His cousins all know he’s _recovering_ , as do his siblings. The other kids hadn’t paid too much attention to the Malfoy eating alone. Word travels fast at their school, and Albus’ potion problem became known as the Potter kid that’s _recovering_. No one ever asks what for, or what from, although a few kids did leave cards on Albus’ bed before the hospital.

“I think we need to work on our patronus’,” Scorpius says. “The physical examination requires us to perform such work. Do you want to try?”

Albus is sitting on the bed, defense book in his lap. “I guess.” Albus sets the book on the bed as he stands up.

“Right, think of your happiest memory and say it _loud_ and _confident_. Most wizards can’t get it right first try. Many can’t produce a patronus.”

Albus squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of a happy memory. It’s rough, especially considering right now he often feels at his lowest. He settles on one of him and Scorpius, meeting for the first time. With a wave of wand, just a tiny bit of mist flies out.

“Almost, Al. Try a harder one.”

Albus nods, then concentrates harder. With a wave of wand, Scorpius lets out a little gasp. “Albie, it’s-its _woah_ ,” he says, eyes wide. Out of the wand, the silvery creature is crawling on the ground, going to find a spot to sit on. It takes a seat on the ground, and blinks at Albus.

Scorpius lets out another gasp, smiling wide at the creature. “Al, it’s a koala!” He exclaims. “That is so neat!” He watches as the animal sits and blinks, comfortable with the blond. “I’ve never heard of a koala patronus before. Is this your first time?”

Albus shrugs, and watches as the animal disappears. “Dad talked to me about it. We tried it a few times. I only succeeded once. I don’t—“

“He’s so _cute_ , Al.”

Albus wrinkles his nose. “But aren’t they supposed to be tough, like a protector?”

“Koala’s aren’t weak animals, Al. They’re fierce protectors to those they care about.”

“Try yours,” Albus encourages. He wants the focus off his dumb koala. He doesn’t really like his patronus, but from what he’s heard you can’t change them. Not purposely. They only change over time, through soulmates. Nothing that Albus could change at the moment.

“Okay,” Scorpius agrees He closes his eyes and thinks a few minutes of his happiest thoughts. He thinks of him and his mother, and smiles, waving his wand. Silver mist comes out, but not enough to fully form the silver creature. Closing his eyes, he thinks again, of a stronger memory with his mum. The mist shoots out the wand and soars through the air, landing on top of the bed post.

Albus looks at the creature as it sits atop the post. It’s a white snow owl, with darker specks on it. It’s a familiar looking owl, Albus notes, as his eyes wander to the stuff toy on his bed. “Hooty?” Albus questions, staring at the owl on the post.

Scorpius turns to his patronus, then to Albus’ toy owl. “It does,” he remarks. “Al, I think this-I think this is Hooty, if he were, well, a live owl.”

“Mines a koala, and yours is a replica of my favourite stuff toy.”

Scorpius smiles at it. He’s read all about patronus’ and what they mean both spiritually for the person and the caster. He’s read how they can match your soulmate. With Albus out of the hospital, Scorpius knows it’s too soon to even think about dating, or asking. Albus needs to focus on himself first, on getting better before they can even think about the next step. But as he looks at the little white owl, he smiles bigger to himself.

There is _no coincidence_ that Albus’ prized stuff toy and his patronus match.

There’s _no way_.

**Author's Note:**

> Albus really hates his patronus, but loves Scorpius'.
> 
> Honestly this probably should've just ended up in my future full length fic but it's still sitting there unwritten and since the fic is all Albus POV, this Scorp POV probably wouldn't have made the cut anyways.
> 
> Check out my [writing tumblr!](http://spacerockwriting.tumblr.com)


End file.
